


Protect The Ones We Love

by ThanksForListening



Series: Game of Thrones One Shots [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Missing Scene, Post 8x01, also i saw a post about how dany never got to really grieve viserion so here i am combining the two, we were robbed of their first interaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 07:53:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18633964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThanksForListening/pseuds/ThanksForListening
Summary: Daenerys is grieving the loss of her dragon when she meets the mysterious second Stark sister.





	Protect The Ones We Love

**Author's Note:**

> kind of rushed this one because i wanted to get it up before tonight's episode kills us all but here you go! Again u don't have to read any of the others but my first story in this series will give a lot of context clues so u might wanna hit up that one if u haven't already 
> 
> i don't think there's any triggers in this story (unlike literally all of my other ones oops) but if there is let me know and i can tag it!

Daenerys didn’t know where she was. 

That wasn’t entirely true. She knew she was in Winterfell. She had rode in this morning, although her arrival was less than ideal. She’d expected the cold reception -- it still hurt, but she’d prepared for it. Jon had warned her many times about the loyal Northerners, and reminded her of what happened the last time a foreign leader came to Winterfell. She could handle the stares, could handle the whispers about her and her people. She knew who she was, knew what her motivations were. She was here to help, even if they didn’t see it that way. 

What she wasn’t prepared for was whatever Bran Stark had become. When they’d met, she hadn’t known what to expect. Jon hadn’t seen Bran in ages, and all Sansa had told him in her note was that he’d “changed”. She certainly hadn’t prepared for his Sight, nor had she prepared for the news he bore.

“The Night King has your dragon. He’s one of them now”. 

Even now she couldn’t stop hearing those words. Dany was pretty sure the world stopped moving when the youngest Stark spoke. He’d moved on, kept talking as if her world hadn’t just crumbled, and it took every ounce of her strength to keep a cool demeanor, to not break down in front of all the Northern Lords. 

Now, however, Dany was far from the rest of the nobility. She’d fled right after the meeting, told Jon she wanted to explore the town on her own while he caught up with his family. She walked with purpose, giving the appearance of someone who knew where she was going despite her taking turns at random. She stopped when she found a crawl space, the entrance small enough for her to climb through and the space inside large enough for her to stand upright in. Making her way inside, she ignored the straw and snow coating the floor as she sat down, put her head in her hands, and sobbed. 

Viserion. She hadn’t stopped hearing his screams. They haunted her dreams during the entireity of the journey North. Every night he begged her to save him, and every morning she woke up with tears down her face when she couldn’t. And now…

She wasn’t sure how long she let herself cry for. She was always surrounded on the ships, always had someone expecting her to be their leader, to be put together. The war was coming -- there was no time for grief, not even for the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Even now, she knew she didn’t have time to fall apart, was silently begging her body to pull itself together. 

It wasn’t working. Everything she’d been holding in, weeks worth of heartbreak and despair, had finally broken through the walls she’d spent hours building when no one was looking. He was her child — her son, in every way that mattered. “Mother of Dragons” wasn’t just a title — it was her reality. She had birthed him, raised him, and then watched as he fell from the sky. Because of her. 

Lost in her grief, she didn’t notice the girl’s presence until she was nearly on top of her. Stifling a scream, Dany glanced up at the young brunette in front of her. The girl looked young, maybe sixteen, but the way she stared at her made Dany feel as if she was much older. 

“What are you doing here?” the girl said, sounding more confused than offended. Dany quickly got to her feet, wiping the tears from her eyes as she stood. 

“My name is--”

“I know who you are.” The girl pointed to her hair. “You’re pretty recognizable, Your Grace.”

Dany instinctively reached for her braids, and sighed slightly. Willing her mind to pull itself together, she looked back at the girl, more closely this time. Despite her stature, Dany counted at least two weapons on the young girl, yet her attire was more fitting of someone with status than a common soldier. 

Realization came over her like a wave. “You’re Arya Stark, aren’t you? Jon’s sister.”

Arya smiled. “And you’re crying in my training spot.” 

Dany froze. First Sansa had glared daggers at her, and now Arya found her sobbing on the floor. All the time she’d spent trying to make the right first impression, and she’d ruined it already. 

“It’s alright,” Arya said, her hands cupped behind her back. “I won’t tell anybody.”

“Why not?” Dany asked. She was vaguely aware that they were breaking nearly every rule of court that she’d been forced to memorize as soon as she could speak, but the young Stark seemed perfectly fine with ignoring the pleasantries that Lords and Ladies were often forced to exchange. 

Arya shrugged. “If I said I found you crying here, then everybody would know about this place. Where would I hide from people then?”

Dany stood silently for a moment, before she burst out laughing. It wasn’t a quiet, respectful laugh -- she was full-on cackling. She couldn’t explain it. Nothing was funny, but somehow everything was hilarious. Where she was, the conversation she was having, the fact that they were probably going to die in a few days and she was sitting here so desperately worried about what Arya Stark— someone who nobody knew still lived until just recently — thought of her. It was all so fucking hilarious. 

When the laughing turned into crying, she was as shocked as Arya. One minute she was giggling like an idiot, and the next she was back on the floor, head in hands, sobbing. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but sit and wait for the wave of emotion coming out of her to run its course. 

Time passed and it didn’t. She cried for ages, yet it was only a handful of minutes later that her breath came back to her. She looked up, only to find that Arya had moved onto the floor next to her, and was slowly rubbing a hand down her back. The movement felt awkward, as if Arya herself didn’t know what to make of her, but it gave her comfort nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked out, her voice hoarse and quiet, completely unlike the persona she’d worked so hard to build. 

“You’re not the first crying woman I’ve sat with in this space,” she said in response, as if that explained her nonchalance at Dany’s breakdown. 

They both sat a moment, neither one sure of what the procedure was for something like this. Dany wished more than anything that she could run, crawl her way out of this space and never have to face the Stark girl again, but as she moved to stand, she began to sway. She felt exhausted, as if she’d run from Dragonstone to Winterfell, and had to close her eyes to stop the dizziness that hit her when she stood up. 

Arya seemed more prepared, grabbing Dany and slowly bringing her back to their spot on the floor. “You can’t stand up right away,” she said, “You’ll collapse before you can make it out of here.” Dany nodded, keeping her eyes closed, waiting until the world stopped spinning. 

“Who did you lose?” Arya asked, and Dany cracked an eye open to stare at the young girl. Her tone hadn’t changed, nor had her facial expression — she might as well have been inquiring about the weather — but Dany found no reason to try and lie about why she was here. She figured the girl had seen enough anyway — if this hadn’t ruined her reputation, nothing could. 

“Viserion,” she replied, “my dragon.”

“That explains why there were only two,” she said, more to herself than to Dany. Neither of them spoke for a moment, until Dany managed to keep her eyes open and her focus on the girl next to her. 

“How did you know?” She asked. 

“Know what?”

“That I’d lost someone.” 

Arya shrugged. “I’ve cried like that before. I’ve seen others cry like that, too. Usually comes from only one of a few reasons, none of them good.” 

“I saw it happen,” Dany said. “I brought him to the battle, and then I watched as he crumbled to the ground. It’s my fault, and now he’s— now he’s one of them, and it’s as if I’ve lost him all over again.” 

There was a beat of silence before Arya spoke. “It’s worse,” she said, “when you’re there. When you have to witness it. Sticks around in the dreams longer.”

Dany stared at her. The girl’s life after going to King’s Landing all those years ago was a mystery, to both her and Jon. Tragedy seemed to follow every Stark sibling — Dany couldn’t help but wonder what horrors the youngest Stark girl had seen.

She waited a moment, to see if Arya might elaborate; when it was clear she wouldn’t, Dany swallowed her pride and asked her: “whose death did you see?” 

“I’ve come face to face with Death a few times,” she answered, fiddling with a knife Dany hadn't noticed she’d unsheathed, “but my father’s was one of the harder ones.” 

“You were there?” She’d heard about Ned Stark’s beheading, about how Sansa had been forced to bear witness to it. By that point, however, no one had known Arya’s whereabouts, not to Jon’s knowledge, at least. 

Arya nodded. “I didn’t see the sword go down, but I was in the crowd. I watched them walk him out, saw the smug look on Joffrey’s face when he gave the order. I didn’t need to see after that — I could hear Sansa screaming, and the sound his head made when they cut it off.” 

Dany didn’t know whether to be impressed or heartbroken at the ease in which Arya spoke of her father’s death. She knew firsthand how misleading appearances could be, how long nonchalance could be faked even as your heart broke.

“I stared at the birds when it happened, watched them fly away,” Arya continued. “For months those damn birds haunted my dreams.”

“Every time I think it’s going to get easier,” Dany said, “and every time I’m wrong.”

Arya nodded. 

“Sometimes,” Dany started, the voice in her head telling her to stop talking, to stop being so vulnerable, so weak. “Sometimes I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through this battle. There are people that I can’t — that I _refuse_ to lose.” 

“Not everyone is a fighter,” Arya agreed, “that’s who I worry about most — that somehow we’ll lose the people in the back, the ones who don’t wield a sword.” 

“Like your sister,” Dany said, and Arya nodded slightly. Dany thought about Missandei, and realized Arya was right — somehow, knowing that she wasn’t going to be fighting made her all the more nervous for her wellbeing. 

“We can’t protect the people we love, no matter how hard we try.” Though her expression didn’t change, Dany could hear the shift in Arya’s voice, the terror that underlined her words. 

“True,” Dany said, “but we have to try.” 

Arya looked at her. Understanding connected them, the fears that come with the territory of being a protector running through both of their minds. 

After a moment, Arya stood up. “I should go find Jon. You’re welcome to stay here, if you’d like,” she said, “I don’t mind.”

Dany nodded. “Thank you. And I’m sorry that I—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Arya winked at her. “Your secret is safe with me, if mine is with you.” 

She turned after that and crawled out of the space. Dany sat for a moment, trying to process everything that had happened.

“Daenerys,”. Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw Arya stick her head back into the hideout. Dany turned toward her. The look on her face could only be described as trouble, the grin she wore threatening mischief and reminding her of the kid sister Jon spoke so affectionately about. 

“Can I ride a dragon?”

Dany laughed, and shook her head. “If we survive the Night King, _maybe_ you can ride a Dragon.” 

“I’m going to hold you to that, Your Grace.” She said, and as Arya walked away, Dany smiled to herself. She’d broken every rule of court, every demand that her brother had set when they were growing up. No crying, no weakness, no feelings. Rulers, he had said, were meant to intimidate, to show power and control and nothing else. She could hear the voice in her head chiding her, but it sounded much more like his voice than her own. As she stood up, she wondered how she hadn’t noticed she’d still been listening to him after all this time. Perhaps it was finally time to follow her own rules.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments may very well get me through episode 3! also hit me up on tumblr @thanks--for--listening if u want ill be screaming about GOT and marvel for at least the rest of the month.


End file.
